


Out of the Darkness

by izzbella91



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, BAMF!Stiles, Dark, Depression, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Post-Season/Series 03 Finale, Rough Sex, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-04
Updated: 2016-02-04
Packaged: 2018-05-18 02:59:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5895523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/izzbella91/pseuds/izzbella91
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-season 3b. Stiles is having a difficult time recovering after the Nogitsune. He is constantly plagued by reminders of what he did and is overwhelmed with guilt. All he can think to do is to continue to fight and kill any monster he comes across. But, despite the fact that he is content with his self-destruction, his friends won't stop protecting him. And, of all people, it's Derek Hale who starts getting through to him, albeit by unconventional means. Stiles/Derek slash but also includes some mention of Stiles/Malia. Dark fic. TW: suicidal thoughts, depression, some consent issues. </p><p>FYI this ignores the events of seasons 4 and 5. Compliant with the ending of season 3.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Out of the Darkness

The chill autumn wind is whipping at Stiles’ clothes, causing goosebumps to rise on his pale skin, but he refuses to get back inside his jeep. He can’t seem to fit inside enclosed spaces anymore – feels trapped – and so he goes for drives nowadays. Anywhere, nowhere. Just out. Out of Beacon Hills. Out of hearing distance of werewolves. Far enough away that no one hears his gasping breaths and choked sobs. Far enough way so that no one knows he isn’t okay… Hasn’t been okay in awhile…

The sun is setting and his heart skips a beat when he thinks he hears howling, but that can’t be right. It’s probably his mind playing tricks again. 

What he doesn’t tell the others, is that everything now seems like his mind playing tricks on him. Ever since getting into that tub and then being consumed by the Nogitsune – he’s never quite sure he’s really back, himself. That he’s not trapped within his own mind as his body does horrible, devastating things. 

He’s not sure exactly where he’s driven, but he knows that it is one of the few places that is blissfully devoid of human life. The landscape spreads out in front of him. Flat, open, neverending. Nothing but the ground – a mosaic of pinks and reds – and the sky. 

He tries to calm his breath. He even puts on one of those meditation apps on his phone. In. Out. In. Out. He can’t stop remembering the chaos of when the Nogitsune was in charge of him, and the moments leading up to all the destruction. Not knowing what was real. The nightmares – which still haven’t gone away. Nor has the feeling of darkness and emptiness in his chest.

He can’t help but think of his mother. Adding salt to the wound. She would be so disappointed in him.

With that thought, he sighs, gets back in the jeep, and starts back for Beacon Hills. Because no matter how much he hates to be in the town he almost destroyed, he can’t ever seem to get away. No matter how far away he drives, he is always called back home. 

\--

Scott has called a pack meeting, but Stiles thinks that everyone now realizes how wrong it all feels. Without Allison. Without Isaac. Without Erica or Boyd. Stiles thinks that Derek probably misses his sister, even though luckily she is one of the survivors and is not another death that’s suffocating the air around them. Stiles looks around the room, taking in the faces one by one.

Scott. Derek. Lydia. Kira. Malia. 

Kira and Malia are great people, but Stiles knows they can’t make up for those they lost. Malia seems a little broken, like him, and he appreciates that. He appreciates when they’re in his bed, fitted together, two broken pieces attempting to become whole. He likes how she always feels a little wild to him, a little dangerous. He likes it because he doesn’t have to worry as much about hurting her (although he still does). He worries about hurting people a lot nowadays.

Kira is a really nice girl, and Stiles knows that Scott likes her, but he wonders if even Scott is aware of how Allison’s death is like a dark cloud over them. Scott gets lost in thought a lot more now than he used to. He also doesn’t smile as much. That makes Stiles feel a little sad (as sad as he can feel within the vast emptiness that his emotions have become) because even after everything Stiles has been through, he’d hoped that at least Scott could remain the always happy, laid back puppy dog he’d grown up with.

Derek at least is a constant in their lives. It hurt him to lose his pack, but he was already broken. Once your entire family burns around you, you’re already the type of broken you can’t come back from.

He pays attention to what Scott is saying, wondering when Scott’s jaw had become so strong, his eyes so piercing and controlled as he took charge of the room. “We know there’s been four bodies found in the woods in the past month alone. It doesn’t look like a werewolf attack, but it doesn’t look like it was done by a human either.”

Kira perks up to attention, her eagerness to please apparent on her face, “Has anyone checked the bestiary yet?”

Scott nods, “Stiles, Lydia, and I have already combed through it. There are some potential creatures it could be, but we just aren’t sure” Scott looks down on his shoes, “We have to stop it before it kills next. This town can’t take any more deaths…” He looks up again and catches each person’s eye, one by one, and when he gets to Stiles he says, “Not on my watch.”

Stiles doesn’t think Scott means to remind him that the last massacre had been from Stiles’ own hands, but Stiles thinks of it as that anyway. He suddenly finds it hard to breathe but is managing to hold in his panic momentarily as Scott goes over their next steps.

Derek, sitting next to him, shoots him a look though. His hazel eyes are glaring at him and his mouth is contorted into a frown. Most people would interpret that as a look of anger or judgment or something, but Stiles has known Derek long enough to know that’s his “concerned” expression. 

Stiles just huffs and looks away from the stare. He can’t deal with Derek Hale of all people being concerned about him.

He focuses enough again to hear Scott say, “And I think we should pair up and patrol the woods every night, try to get more information about this is and potentially stop it. Derek and Stiles take tonight, I’ll go with Lydia tomorrow, and Kira and Malia will do the night after that.

Malia shoots him a look, and Kira looks disappointed, but Stiles knows exactly why Scott chose the pairings he did. He’s a smart alpha and has become much better at planning things over the past couple years – doesn’t rely on Stiles as much to be the smart one (Stiles isn’t sure how he feels about that – he likes being needed, but maybe it’s for the best since he can barely take care of himself right now, let alone other people). 

Derek and him work surprisingly well together, despite their constant bickering. Derek is strong enough to take down whatever this is if needed, and so he can be paired up with Stiles, the weak, pathetic human who has no self defense skills whatsoever. Scott also knows Derek, no matter how much he hates Stiles, will protect him. He never pairs Derek with Lydia, since things between the two of them have been tense since the whole ‘trying to kill her’ thing when they thought she was the kanima. 

Malia and Kira both have supernatural abilities, so can take care of themselves, but are also new at this and so they can rely on each other if they come across whatever is doing the murdering. 

However, this also means that Stiles has to put up with Derek for the rest of the night, when all he wants to do is curl up in bed and try to forget that the world doesn’t exist.

Stiles sighs and gets up, glancing at Derek, “Guess it’s you and me tonight, buddy. Better get out any insults you want to throw my way now, because we’re going to have to concentrate on killing this thing later.”

Derek just shoots him another odd look and gets up, going over to where their supplies are in the corner of his apartment. He loads Stiles up with it seems like every weapon he owns until Stiles can barely carry all the gear. Stiles humphs from under the Kevlar vest, “Dude, is this really necessary? You’re not an alpha anymore, but I’ve seen you in a fight. I trust that you won’t let this thing eat me.”

Derek raises an eyebrow at him. “I can’t be worried about you getting yourself killed when I’m fighting this thing. We don’t know what we’re up against.”

But Stiles reads into it a little more and comes up with two conclusions. First, Derek seems to actually care about his well-being, what? Like he’s always protected Stiles in the middle of fights – he protected him from Isaac when he was wolfed out, he made sure Scott got him out in the Sheriff’s station, and other times – but that was always in the middle of things. He’s never seen him care this much before even going into a fight when they don’t know what they’re up against. But, second, Stiles thinks that Derek is getting insecure about his powers ever since he un-Alpha’d himself. He seems uncomfortable in his own skin nowadays, and at times more aggressive even, trying to make up for the lack of strength and stamina he had gotten used to. He lost his pack and his powers – that’s gotta hurt.

Scott comes over and looks amused at Derek trying to put a helmet on Stiles and Stiles batting him away. Scott grins and says, “Guys, I appreciate trying to protect Stiles but you may want to try to be a little stealthier than that. Just take a few guns with wolfsbane bullets, keep the Kevlar vest, and maybe have some spells at the ready. Deaton’s still been teaching you some things, right?”

Stiles thinks back to the lessons with Deaton. Pre-Nogitsune. He thinks he could pull something out of his ass if needed, but he hasn’t been feeling particularly magical lately. He thinks he’d probably not even be able to do a mountain ash circle right these days. It’s hard to believe in the magic of mountain ash when he’s not even sure if this is reality at all. Or maybe that will make it easier? Who knows.

Derek grunts and finally takes a step back after making a final adjustment to the Kevlar vest, hands gripping Stiles’ shoulders briefly before letting go. Stiles tries not to read too much into that. Because he can’t deal with all these changes. Scott being the leader of their group, confident and in charge. Derek caring about his well-being. His dad giving him concerned looks all the time, more than after his mother died, both avoiding Stiles and also hovering somehow at the same time. He hasn’t been able to process what happened yet, Stiles thinks, but he’s a strong guy and so he keeps going, keeps trying to be the dad, but realizing that he can’t protect Stiles and not knowing how to deal with that.

Stiles suddenly becomes aware of his friends (and somehow Derek ended up in that category without Stiles realizing it) and feels a lump in his throat. Scott claps a hand on his shoulder, which Derek’s hand had just vacated, and Stiles suddenly realized what was happening as he saw twin looks of concern on their faces. Apparently he hasn’t been able to hide this thing – whatever he was going through – as well as he thought. Scott and Derek were worried about him, were taking care of him, were being gentle with him. 

Stiles swallows. He can’t deal with this amount of care. 

In his mind, he sees the blood and hears the screams. Sees his hands taking and grabbing and commanding. Hurting the people he loves.

He doesn’t deserve this. He doesn’t deserve their help, their sympathy, their care.

He forces himself to grin, knowing that it doesn’t reach his eyes, and says with forced enthusiasm, “Okay, let’s go kill this thing!”

\--

It’s midnight. Stiles wonders if it’s a school night, thinking it probably is (he’s been having trouble keeping track of the days recently, only even remembering to go to school when Malia sleeps over and forces him out of bed and all but pushes him out the front door). 

Stiles sits in the passenger seat as Derek drives his jeep. Derek had been as surprised as he was when Stiles suggest he drive so that Stiles can read over the research he had brought with him. Stiles doesn’t look up from his notes as he says, “Okay, so this is weird. The bodies were found at the Beacon Preserve, but my dad says that it seems like the murders didn’t actually happen there. So what do we do – patrol the preserve to try to catch the thing as its dragging the bodies there or sniff it out to try to prevent the murder ahead of time?”

Derek grimaces. They both know they have a better chance of catching the thing if they wait in the preserve, but that means another death. But they can’t just patrol the whole town – they would never be able to find it. Maybe they should all be on patrol, but Scott knows that all of them patrolling each night is just asking for them all to burnout. Scott, unlike Stiles and Derek, is a big believer in them having lives outside of hunting supernatural creatures in the woods. 

Stiles thinks back to a couple months ago – it was right after he finally was free of the Nogitsune. He had been really paranoid for awhile and his insomnia was even worse than it was now. He had taken to driving his jeep all around town, weapons filling up the trunk, looking for something to kill. Thinking of the things still out there, threatening his town, his friends, his father. He never found anything, but after he almost drove into a lamppost from sleep deprivation, either Derek or Scott would go with him (Derek more often than not, since Scott had things like school and friends and a life). 

Derek would just sit in the passenger seat and watch Stiles as Stiles watched the road, snapping out a harsh "Stiles!" every time it seemed Stiles was drifting off, veering off the road. 

After a few months, once he realized what it was doing to Scott and Derek, he moved his obsessions indoors in the middle of the night, moving his drives to the daytime when his father and Scott and Derek wouldn’t worry as much. Coming home and spending hours memorizing the bestiary and scrolling through forums online trying to know everything about the supernatural as possible, so next time he could prevent any more of his friends dying.

Allison’s death hit him hard – harder than he expected. They had gotten closer than Stiles had realized. He didn’t realize until it was too late how used to her presence he was. How he depended on her combination of Disney princess dimples and badass, determined eyes to get him through hunts. How much comfort he got knowing their was another human, a badass human, on the hunt with him. Now he was the only human left.

He wonders how much longer he’s going to live. A weak, skinny human teenager hunting supernatural creatures. He probably won’t make it to 18. He probably won’t be able to make it to college. Won’t get to take the cross country road trip him and Scott had been planning since they were 12. Won’t get to get married, have kids, let his dad have grandkids. When he died, his dad would be all alone… (although maybe that would be for the better…)

His eyes start to burn and he wipes at them briefly with his sleeve. Derek, thankfully, doesn’t say anything, but just glances over at him briefly and scrunches his eyebrows in a way that is entirely un-Derek-like. 

His thoughts are brutally interrupted, anyway, when the jeep suddenly lurches to the right, off the road, and into a tree. 

Stiles’s seatbelt luckily lurches him into a stop right before his head is about to bang on the dashboard. Stiles feels his heart race and his blood pumping, savoring the rush of adrenaline that’s gone through him. He sees two shadows in the middle of the road and before he realizes what he’s doing he’s out of the jeep and moving toward the shadows in the middle of the road.

They are monsters, and Stiles is oddly relieved. Because that means there is no question – they are evil; they need to be put down. They look a little like werewolves, with tall, furry figures and long claws and fangs, but Stiles can tell the difference. These creatures don’t have any humanity left in them. He stares the creatures in the eyes and immediately raises his guns and shoots. They roar in pain and run for him, barely noticing when Derek – wolfed out now and out of the jeep – lunges at them before they get to Stiles.

Stiles doesn’t even cringe as the creature not fighting Derek lurches towards him, huge limbs shaking the ground as it moves – he just fires again and again. It slows the creature down but doesn’t stop it. That’s not good, Stiles thinks.

He sees Derek struggling with the other one and manages to get out a few shots into the creature’s back to give Derek some leverage, before he feels himself flying through the air, landing in some bushes. It could’ve been worse – he could have landed on the asphalt, Stiles thinks. Still he thinks his arm might be sprained as he gets back up, grabbing for the two long knives (almost swords) he has attached to his belt. Maybe it’s a good thing Derek had dressed him for battle, Stiles considers.

The creatures are strong, but not particularly smart or fast, he notices. Derek is having trouble still but seems to be holding his own. He hasn’t been fighting as well since he became a beta (omega? Stiles isn’t sure if Derek counts as being in Scott’s pack or not). He’s had trouble adjusting for his weakened strength, still fighting like an alpha and not realizing his punches don’t carry the same weight and he has to fight smarter again, be on the defensive. Derek doesn’t like to play defense.

Stiles, on the other hand, has only become a better fighter. Before Allison died, he had her teach him some things. About fighting supernatural creatures while still being human. How you had to be stealthy, quiet, unassuming so that the creatures underestimate you, don’t see you coming. How you had to know how to use weapons, and you always have to have backups for when your gun runs out of ammo or your bow gets taken from you. Hide a small knife in your sock, another in your belt. Keep extra ammo on you and learn how to change it out fast. Use the fact that you’re smaller than them to an advantage; hide in the shadows, wait to attack. 

He thinks of these lessons, thinks of Allison and her look of determination and power she always had while shooting her bow, and how she always used emojis even when sending him texts like “My dad still thinks Scott is evil and may be trying to kill him, but we should all so get some pizza later. I’ll say I’m studying with Lydia =] <3” or “There is a creature out in the woods – better get your hunting gear ready! ;)”

Stiles thinks that this is for her, and for everyone else he got killed while possessed. This gives him the strength to get up, roll quickly behind the brush, crouching behind a tree. The creature is glancing around wildly seeming to not be able to sense where he has (bad vision, Stiles notes in his head, that’ll be useful). It also doesn’t seem able to scent him like a werewolf would. 

The creature fighting Derek lets out a howl of pain, and its friend stops hunting for Stiles momentarily to look over towards the noise, and Stiles doesn’t pass up the opportunity given to him. He lunges forward, his grip on his blade strong, hand steady, his injured arm clutched close to him. The creature is tall but Stiles, who has spent hours every day since the Nogitsune training for these moments with pushups and situps and every type of martial arts he can find for free on YouTube, is able to duck the first blow the creature gives and then use all his strength to jump and stab the creature right in the chest, grimacing but filled with relief as he feels the blade hit its mark. He falls back down, blade still in the chest of the furry giant, and groans as his tailbone hits the concrete, injured arm instinctively trying to catch himself.

The creature lumbers backwards, heavy, clumsy feet thumping loudly against the ground. It’s not going to die, but it does fall, and that gives Stiles the opportunity to grab for his second blade and go after it. He no longer sees Derek or the creature’s friend and he thinks it tried to run off and Derek started chasing it, going for the final kill. He hears fighting off in the distance and realizes that Derek might not be able to get to him in time and the second blade is the last weapon he has on him, his gun lost in the bushes when he fell.

His heart feels like it’s trying to escape his chest and his skin is buzzing as he runs forward, screaming as he goes. He feels the creature’s claws dig into his side but the pain just propels him forward, onto the prone creature’s chest and he stabs and stabs again and again into the creature’s heart, ignoring its scrabbling claws reaching for him, tearing at his clothes and skin. He feels the burn of his skin being ripped apart as he grabs his original blade out of the creatures chest and uses both of them in tandem to stab into the squishy, furry chest over and over again until his arms are screaming in pain and his insides feel like they have been ripped out. He screams and screams in pain and anger and feels the adrenaline coursing through his system. The rest of his mind turns off and all he sees is the creatures dull eyes and all he feels is the blade in his hands and he smells blood, so much blood, like when he was killing those people in the hospital as the Nogitsune. And he channels that power, the power he felt when possessed, into killing this thing. Because this was good. He was Good. And he was going to stop this thing, stop himself, from killing any more innocents.

He’s in a daze, the world blurring around him, as he feels strong hands pull him back. He struggles and fights against the hands, but everything seems far away. He wants to keep stabbing, wants to make sure the things is really dead. But suddenly he’s being picked up and carried, and he feels all the energy leave his body, the adrenaline fading.

His head lolls to the side and brushes against the chest of the person carrying him before he passes out completely. The last thing he hears, he thinks, is a quiet “Shh, Stiles, relax. You did good. Just rest.”

And he does.

\--

Stiles wakes up in a hospital room.

It must be Tuesday, he thinks.

He groans and curses himself for ending up here again. Because he’s human and doesn’t fucking heal like his were-buddies. His dad is going to kill him.

Speaking of – he realizes that his father standing over his bed. And as soon as Stiles meets his eyes, his dad confirms his prediction, “Stiles… I have every mind to finish what that creature started. What were you thinking?”

Stiles groans again, “Dad! I was helping! That thing was what was killing all those people – don’t you care at all about me, you know, saving lives?”

His dad shakes his head and looks, as usual, disappointed in him, “I’m the Sheriff. I’m supposed to be the one saving lives. You are 17, and it’s my job to protect you. And obviously I’ve failed, again.”

Stiles closes his eyes at that and takes a deep breath, mulling the words over his head. Failed. Except, implicit in his dad’s declaration, isn’t that the Sheriff failed, but that he did. Failed. Failure. Disappointment. Because he was the one always running off and getting hurt, or possessed, and the one making his dad worry when he has enough on his plate to worry about, like keeping his job and paying the bills from his stay at Eichen house (both of which are also Stiles’ fault). He holds back the tears that want to come to his eyes when he thinks of that.

When he opens his eyes again, his dad has a softer expression. He puts a hand on Stiles’ shoulder, saying, “You gotta keep me in the loop, kid. I recognize I can’t keep you from following around Scott and Derek, or apparently having a werecoyote over for sleepovers… and yes I know about that…. But at least keep me in the loop. Let me hunt alongside you so I can look out for you. Call for backup. Keep you from getting killed…”

Stiles grunts, realizing that whatever painkillers they had him on were wearing off, “I don’t want you getting hurt, Dad. You didn’t ask for any of this…”

His dad frowns, “Neither did you…”

But that’s not true. He started all of this. He brought Scott to the woods that night, was the one who figured out Scott was a werewolf. He’s the one who not only demanded to fight alongside the rest of the pack but was usually the one who researched cases, organized the patrols, brought them all together. He asked for this. Over and over again, he asked for this. And he’s in it, too far in it to ever get out again.

But he doesn’t tell his dad that. Instead he says, “Yeah, of course, Dad. We’ll keep you in the loop. You can even come to pack fun nights! Every Friday we get pizza and watch movies. Maybe you and Derek will become besties!”

Suddenly he thought of Derek and remembered the strong hands gripping him, lifting him off the monster, the warm chest his face was pressed against. He suddenly switches gears, “Is Derek alright? How’d I get here anyway? The jeep was wrapped around a tree… Oh, God my jeep!” Stiles frowns and flails dramatically, lamenting the destruction of his poor car.

His dad raised his eyebrows, “Derek carried you here. He called me and stayed with you until I got here. I think he’s updating the rest of your friends right now.”

Stiles grimaces at the vision he has of Derek carrying him bridal-style the 5 miles to the hospital. He must be super pissed right now.

His dad continues, “Stiles, I think you need to see someone. Professionally, I mean. I know things have been rough after what went down with the Nogitsune and Allison dying. Derek told me… he told me what happened with the creatures you were fighting.”

Stiles almost doesn’t want to ask, “What do you mean? They hit our car. Tried to kill us. We killed them first. What’s wrong with that?” 

He keeps his expression blank as his dad responds, “Stiles… Derek says that when you were fighting it was like you were… “ He pauses and Stiles knows his dad was about to say possessed, “ well, you were like a madman. Even after the thing was dead, apparently you kept stabbing it and tried to fight Derek when he was pulling you off of it. You weren’t yourself.”

Stiles looks away, no longer able to meet his dad’s eye. He remembers the feeling of adrenaline, lunging towards the creature, but after that things get a bit fuzzy. He remembers the smell of blood, the feeling of wet fur, pushing against the arms that wrapped around him, pulling him back. The stench of death.

“What am I even supposed to tell a therapist? Yeah I’m kind of fucked up because some magical creature possessed me and killed a bunch of people?” He keeps his face turned away as he says it.

His father sighs, “I know it’s difficult… and complicated. But I still think it will help. Avoid the details but you need to talk to someone about what you’re going through. Maybe get some medication. It’s okay to need help, Stiles, you’ve gone through a lot.”

As his dad says the words, he also hears Scott’s voice telling him, “It’s okay, it’s okay” as he’s having a panic attack. He feels the strong grip of Derek’s hands on his shoulders, firm, grounding him when he feels like he’s floating away. He smells Malia’s scent – fresh and earthy – and the warmth of her body curled around him, shushing him as he wakes up from a nightmare. He sees Lydia’s blue, knowing eyes, following him as he paces in her room, manically researching whatever he can all through the night, knowing that she’s exhausted but staying awake with him anyway.

Stiles grimaces, “Fine. I’ll see someone. But only if our insurance covers it. I don’t need to be the cause of us losing the house.”

His dad nods, “We’ll figure something out.”

\--

They let Stiles out by nightfall and give him painkillers. His dad takes them away as soon as they get home, giving him a pointed look. Great – his dad thinks he is suicidal and can’t be trusted with pills. Fantastic. More ways to make his dad worried about him.

Stiles immediately goes to his room to do more research, trying to ignore the varying pain of his bruises and cuts from the claws. There are black and blue splotches all across his body. There’s also puncture wounds all down his side and a deep scratch across his cheek. It’s probably going to scar, but Stiles is surprisingly okay with that. Might as well look how he feels. 

He stops scanning webpages when he gets a group text from Derek:

Malia and I will patrol the north side of town tonight and Scott and Kira take the south side. Stiles and Lydia – continue doing research and stay inside tonight. Keep weapons nearby.

Stiles feels a burst of anger. They’re leaving him behind because he got hurt. Making him be on the B team. Research? They know they’ve already scoured through every book and website they know of. They were just waiting to hear back from Deaton. They need him out there. Fuck, he took down one of those things by himself. 

He doesn’t even text Derek back, just grabs his bike (bemoaning the loss of his jeep) and pedals quickly over to Derek’s apartment. By the time he gets there, he’s in a rage, breath coming fast, throat burning from the cold, autumn air. 

He wants to slam into Derek’s apartment but the door is locked, so instead he smashes relentlessly at it with his fist, shouting, “Derek!”

Within a few seconds, Derek’s at the door, worry apparent on his face. He pulls him inside, “Stiles – what’s wrong?! Are you injured? Did they come after you?”

Stiles pushes him and slaps his hands away from where they were checking for wounds. “No, I’m not injured.” Then he thinks on it and adds, “Well, at least not anymore than I already was.”

Derek breathes a sigh of relief but then dons a guarded expression and folds his arms across his chest, taking a step back, “Then what are you doing here. I told you to stay inside. It’s dark out already and… Stiles, how did you even get here? Your jeep was totaled.”

Stiles huffs, “Yeah thanks to you…” Even though he knows he’s being petty and Derek had no way to control the fact that two monsters would come barreling into the car. 

He then continues, flailing his arms and voice rising and becoming too high pitched for his liking but he can’t stop it, “Research? You want me to do research Derek? I’ve been researching these things nonstop! I need to be out there patrolling with the rest of you! You guys need me and don’t think that just because I’m human you can put me on the sidelines.”

Derek’s mouth is in a hard line as he answers, “Stiles. You need rest. You took a beating last night. And, yes, you are human, even if apparently you are in denial about that. I don’t need you getting killed.” He looks at the floor, “I don’t want to have to worry about you while we’re hunting these things.”

It’s like Derek knows what’s coming because he immediately takes a step back as Stiles goes to take a swing at him, screaming, “Fuck you! I killed that thing last night! I fucking killed it! Not only did I kill it, but I saved you from being torn to pieces by shooting at the one attacking you. So fuck you for trying to make me think that I’m a fucking liability.”

Derek’s evading his swings but one lands when he finds himself backed up against the wall. Stiles knows that Derek could easily beat him up, kill him even, but he’s holding back. Probably because Stiles is a poor, defenseless human.

It feels like punching a brick wall. And Stiles’ hand hurts. A lot. But he keeps going, in a trance, feeling the adrenaline coursing through him like it did last night. All the anger and resentment he feels giving him focus as he punches at Derek again and again.

Derek’s eyes are wide with shock and finally by the fifth punch, he grabs at Stiles’ wrists, manhandling him to the floor. It’s all too easy for Derek to take control over the situation, and Stiles hates it. Hates that Derek can carry him 5 miles to the hospital and basically was letting Stiles punch him, his punches probably feeling like pillows hitting his face repeatedly. 

Stiles quickly finds his face pushed against the floor, cold and hard beneath his cheek. The cool ground makes him a little clear-headed but he still feels out of control, his heartbeat pounding and leftover adrenaline coursing through him. Derek’s straddling him, holding his arms against his back, grip on his wrists so tight it hurts. 

Stiles suddenly becomes overwhelmed with feelings. With guilt and anger and shame. He yells out and tries to bash his head into the floor but a hand quickly moves to blunt the impact. He struggles some more until Derek pushes his arms back more, pushes them tight and squeezes his wrists together, putting a knee into his lower back to keep him immobilized. Shots of pain run through his arm, particularly the one that he fell on last night. He feels white sharp pain from every bruise and cut on his body. 

Suddenly he becomes aware of Derek’s body in a different way, and he notices that along with the pain is a surge of heat and want traveling through his body and building in his stomach, curling up and making his hips move, writhing against Derek in a different way. He doesn’t know what he’s doing, but there’s still adrenaline pumping through him and he feels all this energy and pain and need to let this all out somehow. He wants to kill something. He wants to fight, but Derek isn’t letting him. He’s keeping him immobilized.

And Stiles is hard, he realizes. So hard it hurts and he’s rutting against the ground like a fucking animal, still screaming at Derek to let him go in half-sentences while wishing that Derek would not only stay on top of him but move against him instead of sitting their like a solid piece of brick.

He hears a quick inhale of breath as Stiles’ movements end up with his ass moving against Derek, repeatedly. Stiles knows what he’s doing is wrong but he can’t stop it, and Derek doesn’t get up. Stiles just keeps moving his hips, writhing against Derek’s grip, keening at the mixture of pleasure and pain he’s feeling as Derek holds his wrists tight and keeps his body still as Stiles moves up against him.

The pressure is building in him and he can’t stop… can’t stop… can’t stop…

He loses all sense of himself and the outside world and only feels himself moving against the warm body above him. He shouts as he feels Derek shifting slightly on top of him, so that Stiles’ ass is now directly moving on Derek’s crotch and he feels that Derek is hard – and suddenly Stiles is coming, coming so hard he feels all the breath leave his body and the world seems to tilt around him.

And with that, all the adrenaline is gone from his body and replaced with a warm feeling he doesn’t know what to do with. He is suddenly aware of the cold floor being pressed up against his body, the pain of his bruises, the uncomfortable wetness in his pants.

He grimaces and wishes that Derek will just get up and leave and never speak to him again. But, although Derek does get up, he just stands there and stares as Stiles pushes himself up to standing with a groan.

They make eye contact and Stiles’ entire body flushes. Derek just says, “I’ll go get you a spare pair of sweatpants…” and walks away.

Stiles doesn’t even have enough time to start panicking before Derek is in front of him again, holding out the pants. A couple of years ago Derek’s pants probably would’ve been comically large on him, but since he’s built up some muscle Stiles assumes they will be fine. 

Derek turns away politely as he changes. Stiles feels like he’s been transported into an alternate universe. This feels so weird.

As Stiles goes to leave, Derek stops him with a palm on his bicep, pulling him to look at him. Stiles’ eyes go wide, but Derek just softly says, “Are you okay now?”

Stiles nods. 

Derek lets him go and he leaves, only realizing once he gets to his bike that he failed in his entire purpose in coming over. Derek is still going to make him stay home.

But, now, Stiles thinks maybe that’s not a terrible idea after all.

Stiles goes home and falls into a dreamless sleep.


End file.
